


i'll tell you my sins (while you sharpen your knife)

by fourhorsemen



Category: DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural (TV) Fusion, Anal Sex, Coitus Interruptus, Dubious Consent, F/M, Face-Fucking, Hunter Jason Todd, M/M, Oral Fixation, Priest Jason Todd, Succubus Dick Grayson, They get blueballed this is an SPN AU they cant have nice things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:26:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26746582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fourhorsemen/pseuds/fourhorsemen
Summary: The demon has been following him for the past three days.He sits in the pews now, leisurely sucking on a lollipop as Jason delivers his sermon.Jason eyes those cheekbones, that jawline cut from marble, the way those cheeks hollow with every delicious suck, and has to remind himself that's ademon.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Roy Harper/Koriand'r (Mentioned)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 63





	i'll tell you my sins (while you sharpen your knife)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BehindTheRobinsMask](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BehindTheRobinsMask/gifts), [andthwip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/andthwip/gifts).



> I got bullied on Waynes server and it birthed this trashterpiece. Art inspo: [s-mscott's Father Todd](https://s-mscott.tumblr.com/post/630724564352204800/forgive-me-father-for-i-have), it's beautiful, go reblog it!
> 
> **Warning:** Dubious consent at first, cleared up later in fic that Jason is genuinely attracted to Dick and it's not just succubus thrall.

The demon has been following him for the past three days. 

He sits in the pews now, leisurely sucking on a lollipop as Jason delivers his sermon. It irritates Jason how often he finds his eyes drifting to two oh-so-innocent baby blue orbs, drifting down the pursed, split-slick lips glossy with sugar, wrapped around cherry red candy Jason gets a glimpse of every so often when that mouth opens and a tongue peeks out to curl around it. Jason’s eyes aren’t the only ones on the man, he can see a few old, middle-aged, happily married men glancing at the lollipop-sucker, shifting in their seats and adjusting the crotch of their pants. Jason can’t say he blames them, with those cheekbones, that jawline cut from marble, the way those cheeks hollow with every delicious suck, it’s making Jason’s pants tighter even though he knows that’s a  _ demon _ . 

Baby Blues has been following him, Jason’s seen him far too many times for it to be happenstance, not for someone in his profession. A coincidence for a local priest, perhaps. For a priest, it may just be a wandering traveler seeking confession, a weary soul just a little too apprehensive to reveal their deepest secrets without scoping out the local clergy first… but Jason is no priest. He is a priest by day, but it’s a front, a convenient one for the hunting trips he goes on at night. No one suspects a priest to be hoarding a stash of weapons in his private rooms, no one expects there to be silver knives doused in holy water taped strategically under every pew. Not that a demon can step foot in his church, not with how meticulously he’s warded it, but he’s been burned a few too many times and it’s made him cautious. Not to mention, Baby Blues managed to get in without screaming like hellfire itself was burning him alive, so his wards are either rusty, or his intuition is off and yet, there’s nothing Jason trusts more than his gut. 

Jason is a Hunter, he is being followed by a demon and it spells nothing but trouble. 

Jason completes his sermon then makes his way down, shaking hands, accepting praise with humble nods and offering a few short words of his own to those he feels need to hear them. When he reaches the penultimate pew, he stills in front of the demon, who has made no move to get up and is simply lounging in the seat, legs akimbo, sucking merrily on his piece of candy. Baby blue eyes travel over Jason head to toe, and he knows with certainty he’s being undressed by the man’s eyes. The demon’s gaze lingers on the fall of Jason’s cassock over his crotch, like he knows how tight his pants are underneath, like he can  _ smell _ Jason’s arousal. Jason’s eyes narrow when the man lets a side of his lips pull up with a sultry smirk. 

“No eating in the church,” Jason snaps, just to be contrary. Baby Blues takes the lollipop out of his mouth with an obscene ‘ _ pop’  _ that makes Jason’s neck burn hot underneath his rigid collar. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, _ Father Todd _ ,” Baby Blues says, his voice low, hoarse and husky with unmistakable lust. Long legs clad in jeans a size too small stretch out a little further and Jason’s eyes travel up the sleek lines only to grind to a halt when he sees the tent in the man’s pants. Jason resists the urge to openly swear. 

“It’s fine. Don’t do it again,” Jason grits out and forcibly pulls his eyes back up to the man’s face, blatantly refusing to acknowledge his erection. Blue Eyes hums amenably, tilts his head just so and trails his fingers down his lips, over his throat. The fingers of his other are still wrapped daintily around a half-eaten red lollipop, Jason watches the man bring it up to his lips, roll that sticky residue onto his parted lips.

It makes Jason’s eyes zero in on those glossy, pink lips, a little red with candy, and he finds himself thinking about how that waxy, sticky layer of sugar would feel pressed to his own lips. He meets devious,  _ devious  _ blue eyes that make a world of sinful promises and it sends his belly swooping low, makes his priestly garb feel restrictive, makes it feel utterly  _ unbearable _ . Jason entertains the fantasy for a few brief moments, entertains licking into that candy-sweet mouth, sucking on that talented tongue, peeling those jeans off mile-long legs and spreading the blue-eyed man on this very pew and shoving his cock down that pretty throat. He snaps out of it when blue eyes flick black, quick, like the shutter of a camera, so quick anyone else would not have caught it, but Jason does. 

Jason’s been looking for it.

“I think you should leave,” Jason says in a low, dangerous tone. The demon smirks and pulls himself to his feet. He’s shorter than Jason, smaller, body corded with lithe muscle, but Jason knows the superhuman strength hiding underneath that slender, gymnast’s build. Jason knows this demon could rip him limb from limb, all six foot, two hundred pounds of muscle that Jason is, he would still be nothing but taffy in the hands of this beast. 

“How rude, and here I wanted to  _ confess _ ,” the man whispers, sugar sweet, voice low as sin. He takes another step closer to Jason and it makes Jason glance around warily. 

He relaxes when he finds the church is empty, having cleared out while he was entertaining the demon standing in front of him. Baby Blues, or should he say, Black Eyes, takes another step, until he’s breathing the same air as Jason, but Jason does not back away. It is clear to him the demon knows exactly who he is and Jason was not raised to cower in front of hellish scum. He pulls his lips up in a sneer, stares down liquid blue irises with hardened eyes, straightens to his full height so the demon has to look up at him. The blue-eyed man just laughs airily and dares to raise a hand, dares to trail his fingers down Jason’s jawline. Jason’s skin prickles. He uses all his self control to resist looking down at the demon’s lips. 

“You don’t  _ belong  _ here,” Jason hisses and clenches his jaw when a hand wraps around his jaw, it’s a caress at first and then the grip tightens. Blue eyes flick to solid black and they stay that way. Jason stares them down with his own blue-green eyes, feels adrenaline begin to pump through his veins. He discreetly slips a hand into his cassock and palms the bottle of holy water in his pant pocket.

“Funny. I managed to enter, so I must have a place here, no?” the demon drawls, Jason feels himself sinking into the solid black, the man’s eyes, once an alluring blue, are now an abyss that drags him in. 

He can feel the heat of the demon’s body along his front, he can  _ feel _ it, because the demon takes another step closer. He presses up to Jason like a cat, wraps his arms around Jason’s neck, surrendering his menacing grip around Jason’s throat. Jason feels the demon’s pelvis press to his own and now adrenaline mixes with arousal into a heady mess, and all Jason wants is to fuck the demon, he wants to stab the demon and he’ s not sure in which order. Jason holds his ground, he doesn’t move an inch, lets the demon rub up all over him like a bitch in heat and a thought slithers across his mind like Temptation in the Garden of Eden, it wraps its coils around him and clenches until he hisses it out. 

“ _ Succubus _ ,” he growls and the demon throws his head back in a laugh. Jason can feel it in the air now, the raw tension, the way the man  _ exudes _ sex, how the arch of his throat is so inviting it’s practically begging for a bite. 

He should have realised it much sooner, it should have been a realisation as hard and brutal as a crowbar to the back of his skull. The demon wears the form of a man that might as well have walked out of Jason’s dirtiest dreams, his raunchiest sexual fantasies, another addition to the list of the no-name hookups he picks up in gritty, roadside bars after a good hunt.  _ A good fuck after a good hunt, _ it’s his only rule… and he holds to it steadfast. Blue eyed, black-haired, legs a mile long but still stands shorter than him by far, muscled but not  _ too  _ muscled, bendy, the kind of body he’d like to have bent in half beneath him and with the kind of lips he wants to see moaning his name. It’s a mental list Jason didn’t know he had, and the succubus checks every single bullet point. 

“Took you long enough, Father,” the succubus whispers, then licks a stripe from Jason’s jawline to his collar. 

“No, I have wards. I have wards against your kind,” Jason struggles to say, but the succubus’ saliva coats his skin and his thoughts muddle further. He shouldn’t have let him get so close, how could he have been so  _ stupid _ ?

“Outdated, I’m another breed. A new strand of the virus,” the man says flippantly, he flicks his black eyes expertly back to those blue orbs that have Jason drowning in them. Jason’s hands drift to the man’s slim waist without his permission and he struggles to remember what he was about to do before he felt that tongue on his skin. 

“Oh, you are going to be so  _ easy _ ,” the demon whispers, then licks into his ear and Jason jolts to attention. Easy? He was anything but  _ easy _ . 

Jason lets the ruse go on a few seconds longer, lets that serpent tongue lave all over his skin and lick along his rigid collar, lets long fingers twine into the hair at the nape of his neck as he sneaks one hand away from the demon’s waist, edges it into his own robes and curls it around the bottle of holy water. 

“ _ Exorcizamus te!”  _ Jason barks as he uncaps the bottle one handed and upends it on the demon. 

The demon howls in agony, a banshee screech that stabs into Jason’s eardrums and nearly blows them out. He can feel a rivulet of blood drip down from his ear but he has to continue. He has to strike. He leans back and kicks the succubus  _ hard  _ in the gut while it's weakened and writhing in pain. It’s almost a shame, to see the holy water crackle and melt the skin off of one fine cheekbone, but blue eyes flick to black and it reminds Jason why he should hold no pity for this hellish fiend. The succubus crashes onto the pew, back first, limbs akimbo and scrambles back, eyes flicking rapidly between black and fearful blue. 

“ _ Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabiolica,”  _ Jason chants, from rote memory, as he splashes the demon. It’s body contorts in pain as the blessed water burns through his clothes, reddens and blisters his skin. Jason’s eyes fall on a scorched patch of thigh, and he shakes himself out of the hot surge of lust he feels. 

“ _ Ergo, omnis legio diabolica, adiuramus te… cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque æternæ perditionis venenum propinare,”  _ he continues, raising his voice to combat the demon’s howls when more holy water splashes on to him but Jason’s running out and he’s running out fast. 

He doesn’t have enough time to run to his pulpit, a row of pews away, to grab the bottles he keeps there, the demon will be long gone by then, or worse yet, it would come at him with vengeful bloodlust and attack him while his back is turned. He toys with the idea of crouching down to grab the holy knife strapped beneath the very pew the demon writhes on but he would most assuredly be kicked in the face, knocked out cold or worse, dead on impact from a kick possessing superhuman strength. 

He’s just going to have to keep chanting and pray the exorcism takes. 

“ _ Vade, satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciæ, hostis humanæ salutis…”  _ Jason shouts and throws the last sprinkles of holy water he has on the demon. Blue eyes blaze at him in fury and flick to solid black, the demon lunges for him and Jason staggers back.  _ Fuck _ , Jason was going to have to fight this one out, for there was no way to subdue this demon, he had no demon trap to hold him and he had no holy water to burn him. He flings the bottle away and uncords his cassock one handed, lets it fall open for mobility and springs back on his feet, barely escaping the demon’s second lunge. 

_ “Humiliare sub potenti manu Dei; contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili nomine... quem inferi tremunt…”  _ Jason continues with vehemence but his eyes widen when the demon simply smirks, saunters towards him with hips swaying as Jason desperately backs away, all the way across till the backs of his knees hit the opposing pews. The exorcism isn’t working, why isn’t the exorcism working?

_ “Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine!”  _ Jason shouts, at the top of his lungs, an urgent hope that volume would make up for wherever the Rituale Romanum fell short, but it has no discernable effect, no change in the demon’s reactions. The blisters on the demon’s skin are already healing, patching themselves back to pale, unmarred white as the succubus shapeshifts and the haze is clouding Jason’s mind once again. His voice lowers in volume, it begins to falter as his eyes wander to patches of exposed skin because the demon can patch his skin, but not his clothes. Jason’s eyes fall to a strip of delicious naked thigh, revealed through scorched jeans and it beckons him, the desire to dig his teeth into it is overwhelming. 

_ “Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos!”  _ he says with faltering words, and it’s the end of the ritual…There’s no more, nothing more to say short of repeating the whole passage again. The succubus smirks at him knowingly, and steps into his space, puts a thumb to his chin almost lovingly and Jason drowns in deep, suddenly human, guileless blue eyes. 

“That wasn’t very nice,” the demon whispers, lips trail over Jason’s lips and he licks his own reflexively. He can taste the cherry flavored lollipop and it’s sweet, it’s another form of temptation, a satisfaction of his secret sweet tooth… The succubus has had his claws dug deep into Jason’s psyche for  _ days _ and he hadn’t even known. 

How could he have been so  _ oblivious _ , if Roy could see him now… If  _ Bruce _ could see him now. 

The bitterness associated with that name slashes across the fog in his mind like a knife, it cuts away all pretenses and Jason almost reels back… but pink, glossy lips are still mouthing at his, a tongue fluttering across his bottom lip for permission and he reevaluates. The haze has lifted, but the succubus seems unaware, with how he wraps his body around Jason’s, purrs delightedly as he tugs Jason’s undershirt, drifts a finger down the line of buttons. Jason gives in and channels Bruce, his cunt of an adoptive father, the man who taught him every hunting trick he knew and then with sudden surety, he knows what he needs to do. 

“Why didn’t… the exorcism… work?” Jason pants, deliberately, letting his voice go a little reedy, a tinge helpless but not too much that the demon can sense his deceit in his mind. It’s not difficult, with the way nimble fingers are unbuttoning his pants, pads of those fingers slipping into his underwear to stroke his erect cock with a feather light touch that sets Jason’s blood on fire. 

“Oh Father, this isn’t a  _ host _ . This body is all me,” the demon murmurs, and the immediate shock Jason feels isn’t even put on. He blinks, he gulps, his eyes widen and that just makes the demon preen. 

Jason’s eyes trail all over him, mischievous azure blue eyes, cheekbones that could cut glass, lips made to be wrapped around a cock, broad chest tapering down into a deliciously tight waist, and those  _ legs  _ that he knows can wrap around him like a pretzel. The succubus looks pleased at the attention, he puffs out his chest, presses it up to Jason’s and trails his lips sloppily over his chin as a reward for Jason’s unsaid praise. Jason shudders and closes his eyes, sucks in his bottom lip when fingers wrap around his cock, but then the blue-eyed man’s teeth are prying his bottom lip back out to nip at the skin. 

“That’s… not possible,” Jason forces the words out into the heat of the man’s mouth. Wicked blue eyes glint up at him impishly, privy to information Jason does not have and he wonders if the demon will willingly part with his secrets. 

“Call me Dick, Dick Grayson. I died years ago, a freak trapeze accident. Apparently, my parents, bless their souls, made a crossroads deal,” the demon, Dick whispers into his ear, it begins as a susurration and as he continues speaking, it wraps itself around Jason, until the hiss of that voice… It’s all he can hear. 

“The Flying Graysons - well before your time, young priest - were the hit act for years after, until of course… The Hell Hounds.There’s always a time limit. It seems any talent that was passed on through their supernaturally enhanced genes was also fair game, because their son… 

...Dick Grayson was pronounced braindead at the ripe old age of nineteen. His meatsuit here was hooked up, sitting pretty in a hospital bed but… but his  _ soul  _ spent eons toiling at the hands of Azazel and his cronies in Hell, until he was forged into what I am now… 

...Popped right back in the ol’ birthday suit. I’m a bit attached you see… Azazel allowed it, I mean… I am the  _ best _ , my master would accept nothing short of perfection,” Dick muses, a finger to his chin while the fingers of the other stroke Jason’s cock. Jason’s attention is split maddeningly between the heated touch, the man’s hot gaze and the way his lips wrap around those taunting words. 

“And you, dear Father. I was sent especially for you. My master holds grudges, you know.  _ The sins of the father are visited upon the son,”  _ Dick breaths, a feather soft whisper, and yet the edge of it is razor sharp as it cuts into Jason. At first he doesn’t clock it, doesn’t have the mental capacity to parse that statement with a hand down his pants, then he replays the final sentence in his mind, recalls the mention of Azazel and two and two slams together into twenty fucking two. 

Bruce, Bruce and his goddamn Crossroads Deal. Asshole should have never brought Jason back.

“You can’t,” Jason grinds out from behind his teeth but his protest is cut short because Dick is unbuttoning his shirt with skillful, quick fingers, fanning fingers out on the skin of his chest. Jason sees the succubus bite his lip when his fingers reach his hard abs, he can’t help but flex them a little and he gets a playful, knowing look for it. 

“I can, and I will,” Dick says in a singsong tone, leaves the cassock and unbuttoned shirt hanging around his naked chest, but yanks Jason’s pants down till they pool at his feet.  Dick drops down to his knees then and Jason, Jason loses his mind a little. His vision swims in and out, the next thing he feels is lips wrapped tight around his cock, sucking the life out of him, quite literally, sucking out his essence. He groans, his knees go weak and he sprawls into the pew, watches hazily as cherry red lips suck on his cock. At some point he tangles his fingers in silky black hair, pumps his cock in and out of Dick’s mouth. 

_ I had a plan _ , he thinks dimly, but all his thoughts are spinning out of his reach. He moves his hips restlessly, looks down and meets teasing eyes and traces the arch of a fine brow. Dick is sucking slowly, unhurried and slow, and Jason’s getting tired of the rhythmic, too-little too-much, a tongue swirling then gone, head of his cock just brushing the back of Dick’s throat before Dick pulls away to tease with kitten licks. 

“My cock isn’t a lollipop,” Jason snaps, when he makes the connection and deduces the clear oral fixation. Dick laughs around his cock and the vibrations make Jason shudder head to toe, he tries to snap his hips into that hot mouth but preternaturally strong hands grip him by the hips and still him. 

“ _ Fuck _ , you’re a succubus. Do your _job_ ,” Jason whines, he writhes his hips and glares down at the raven-haired siren. Lips pop off his cock and Jason spews a string of curses that would make his congregation balk. 

“Naughty, you give sermons with that mouth? I may be a succubus, but I like to take my time,” Dick drawls and then he’s back to light, teasing little sucks that drive Jason around the bend. Jason grits his teeth and takes it, a sweet torture, just when Dick’s lips tighten around him and Jason’s heartbeat picks up, the minx pulls off, licks two stripes up and down and leaves him wanting for more. 

“Daddy and mommy didn’t tell you not to play with your food?” Jason sneers and it somehow, it somehow strikes a nerve. Blue eyes narrow into slits, cat-like in their intensity, teeth nip at the head of his cock and make Jason yelp in alarm. Dick chuckles at his reaction, then flattens his tongue against the underside of Jason’s cock, stays there, still and stares up at Jason with both eyebrows raised in challenge. The hands around his hips loosen and Jason’s sigh of relief is nearly audible. 

He starts slow, cautious - he’s still not sure he won’t get his cock bit off - smooth, languid thrusts into lips that form a tight circle around him. Dick looks almost bored and it lights a competitive fire in Jason, succubus or not, he’s going to  _ ruin  _ this blue-eyed temptress. It will be his last hurrah for his final night on Earth. Jason yanks Dick by the hair, it’s a hunch and it proves deliciously right when Dick’s eyes widen and he moans around Jason’s cock. Jason smirks and then he pulls his hips back and starts  _ fucking _ Dick’s throat, hard. Dick gags around his throat at the first brutal thrust, tears spring to his eyes and he gives a high whine that makes Jason cut him a sharp grin. 

Jason groans loud as he chases his release, fucks in and out like a piston into Dick’s throat, as the man struggles to match his voracious pace and contract his muscles around Jason’s cock. Jason slips into a trance, time slows and all he can feel is the throb of blood in his cock, the sloppy wet heat of Dick’s mouth, the flex of his throat contracting around the head of Jason’s cock. He lazily lets his eyes rove over Dick, lets out a shuddering sigh when he sees Dick’s own hand stripping his own cock. It’s a pretty thing, Jason wants to suck it, but it’s a ridiculous thought, sucking off a succubus. He holds back a snort but when he meets amused blue eyes, he remembers that Dick can read his thoughts anyway, so why suppress them? 

“You like that? You want to take my cock?” Jason slurs and Dick’s eyelids flutter, he whines softly and his lips slacken just a little. Oh, so he likes a little dirty talk, Jason can work with that. He weaves sermons, he preaches the God’s only truth every day, but for those baby blue eyes and those lips wrapped around his cock, he would serenade this man with Shakespearean sonnets. 

“Suck it down, baby. I’ll feed it to you, cock and soul,” Jason rasps, precome spurts into Dick’s mouth and Dick’s eyes blaze with hunger. Jason begins to feel the energy leave his limbs and he knows what’s coming. He wonders if he can delay it, just a little bit, maybe he could have a little fun with this beauty. He surely deserves it, after the shit he’s been through. 

“You said you like to play, well why don’t you pull off, hm? I’d bend you in half, I’d give it to you good. I’ve had my eyes on that tight ass for days. I’d bend you right over the pulpit, baby. Pretty thing like you, I’d let you come on the Cross,” Jason mutters, he’s delirious, he doesn’t even know half the sacrilegious bullshit he’s spewing out his mouth because his skin is fever hot and he feels like he’s  _ burning alive  _ in the best way possible. He’d always thought those who fell victim to succubi were suckers, but fuck, if this is what it felt like, he doesn’t judge a single one of them for giving in. 

Dick jolts physically at his words, his eyes fly wide and flick black for a moment, then the blue is back and pupils overtake his irises. Dick looks torn, like he wants nothing more to bend over for Jason, let him pound into him… but there’s a suspicious, calculating gleam in the succubus’s eyes. Dick’s on to him, onto Jason’s tricks and tactics, this is one smart demon and he isn’t falling for a damn word. Jason laughs at his luck, of course, Hell made a special order for him, fresh out the Rack, exclusively tailored for Jason Peter Todd’s pleasure and subsequent demise. 

He can’t help but laugh when he thinks about it, that Bruce brought him back, broke a Crossroads Deal, waged a war with Hell, all so Jason would end up dying with his cock out. 

He feels a little vindictive and a lot spiteful. It’s not like he asked to be brought back onto this hellscape, he’d rather rot six feet deep. Bruce will have an aneurysm when he hears about this. The thought brings a smile to Jason’s face and he thrusts hard, it’s abrupt and it has Dick coughing and pulling off his cock. Dick’s got a hand on his throat now as he coughs up precome, cheekbones high with a flush and tears pooling in the corner of his eyes. 

“Too much for a succubus? You better be telling this story to all your demon pals once I croak,” Jason snorts and Dick rolls his eyes. It’s such a human response that Jason forgets for a moment that there’s a deadly creature of Hell kneeling at his feet.

“They never told me you had delusions of grandeur,” Dick mutters and Jason growls, bends down and gives the succubus a kiss full of teeth. He bites at swollen lips and puffs them up even more, licks into Dick’s mouth, tastes himself and whatever otherworldly concoction that makes Dick’s mouth taste like cinnamon, hot, but so addicting. 

“Offer still stands. I’ll fuck you till you can’t walk,” Jason says huskily and licks a stripe across Dick’s lips. Baby Blue’s eyes flutter and he shifts, he bites his lips and Jason can see the cogs turning, can see the hot gaze on Jason’s cock, can see one of Dick’s long-fingered hands sneak around to the back of his tight, designer jeans and when he lets out a hitched little sound Jason knows he’s fingering himself. 

“God, yes, fuck. Take those clothes off, hop on Daddy Todd’s cock,” Jason groans and there’s a peal of unexpected laughter. Dick’s staring up at him, grinning from ear to ear and then Jason processes the words that just came out of his own mouth. 

“You’ve sucked half my brain out my cock. If you wanted a Casanova, maybe you ought to slow your feeding,” Jason grumbles and Dick gives him a considering look. There’s a pensive expression on the succubus’s face and if they were really fucking,  _ really _ consensually fucking without demon magic grabbing Jason by the balls, Jason thinks the look could be categorised as fond. Beyond his wildest dreams, some of the drivel Jason’s been spewing seems to have gotten to Dick and the man stands, peels too-tight jeans off his body and straddles Jason’s lap. 

Dick trails his fingers over the fabric of Jason’s cassock, still hanging onto his body for dear life and smirks, a sultry turn of lips. 

“Okay. I’ll bite,” Dick breaths, leans down to trail his lips teasingly over Jason’s, and Jason can’t believe his luck. Logically, he knows this would be a prime opportunity to find a way to make a break for it, but Dick’s naked ass is on his thighs, he’s got two fingers stretching himself, his pretty, long cock is dripping into Jason’s abs and Jason has long since kissed his soul goodbye. 

“Fuck,  _ fuck,  _ get on me,” Jason hisses, pulls Dick up by the hips and slams him down onto his cock. Dick whines and Jason throws his head back, starts fucking up in earnest. The haze overtakes him and he realises, with alarm, that this is another way Dick could feed. Jason hasn’t delayed the inevitable, he’s played himself. It’s an idle realisation that he sweeps under the rug because Dick is  _ tight _ , it is a tight fit, near virginal and the way the siren is clenching his ass has Jason seeing stars. 

He’s on the precipice, he’s on right on the teetering edge of orgasm, when a gunshot rings out. 

It’s like a lightning clap in the natural ambiance of the church architecture and then blood’s spattering over Jason’s face. 

There’s an inhuman howl, he sees panicked blue eyes before Dick’s off him, and Jason whines pathetically at the loss of tight heat on his hard cock. In the demon’s panic, the claws he’s dug into Jason’s mind loosen and then Jason’s seeing clearly, like someone’s wiped the dirty film away from the lens of an old camera. Dick is whimpering and clutching his shoulder, and the way the wound isn’t healing, Jason knows it’s a blessed bullet. There’s only one person he knows who has an arsenal of blessed bullets. 

“Roy? What the  _ fuck _ are you doing here?” Jason shouts, has the foresight to pull up his pants before he turns to face Roy, standing guns ablazing at the entrance of the church. Roy nonchalantly kicks the double doors closed, like he didn’t just slam them open for a suitably dramatic entrance and raises an unimpressed red eyebrow at Jason. 

“You should be thanking me. Thanking your angels who art in Heaven that I’ve been keeping tabs on you,” Roy drones, a Southern twang to his voice that he hasn’t been able to scrub in all his years under Bruce and Alfred’s tutelage. At least Jason doesn’t speak like back-alley trash anymore. 

“You’ve been keeping tabs on me?” Jason begins to say, outraged but Roy looks pointedly at the demon, raises his gun menacingly. 

“You really want to go, right now? You were about to get your soul sucked out your dick,” Roy snaps and Jason pulls a hand through his sweaty hair. 

“Fuck,” Jason spits and he can’t believe his luck. He’s not even allowed to croak in peace, so what if he was going to die in the most comedic, tragic way possible? It was his goddamn life, he could die with his cock out if he wanted. He eyes Dick’s naked bottom half, the shirt’s rode up far too high to cover his now flagging cock, and the legs are definitely still on display. Jason’s not sure what it says about him that he  _ still  _ wants them wrapped snug around his waist, even without the demon mojo serving as an aphrodisiac. 

Roy lines up a shot, arm a straight line, one focused eye on the sightline. 

“No, no stop. I can be what you want too. I know what you need,” Dick stutters, eyes wild, and his hair begins to morph into fiery red. Jason watches as Roy’s face twists, then another shot rings out, flies just inches off the mark from Dick’s forehead, grazes his temple and leaves a burning trail in his hair. It makes the demon scramble behind a pew desperately, and morph back into his own body in a panic, but that one moment of transformation was enough.

Roy never misses.

Jason knows it was deliberately off mark.  _ K’ori _ , he thinks, and it’s a name he hasn’t let crawl across his mind in a long, long time. He muses idly, firmly represses the grief that tries to wrap it’s sticky, ink-black hands around his heart and focuses on the way Dick is hyperventilating now. Roy lines up another shot, jaw clenched. 

“No,  _ stop!  _ I don’t have a host! This is my body! You can’t, you can’t kill me,” Dick cries out in wide-eyed, visceral terror and there’s nothing better than seeing a demon reduced to a pathetic, sobbing, begging mess when faced with a holy bullet. A holy bullet to the head? Goodbye forever. Jason tries to muster up the satisfaction he usually feels, but it falls flat in front of those human, blue eyes. He’s still bewildered, that this body isn’t a host.. Demons lie… but Dick’s wild-eyed gaze speaks volumes. Besides, where Roy has his guns, Jason has an ear for lies and Dick’s story from earlier rung true.

“Go back to your little hidey hole in Hell, then. Leave the meatsuit behind,” Roy sneers, and Jason buttons himself up in the meanwhile. He’s clearly not getting any, and Dick’s about to be blasted to kingdom come. 

“It’s  _ mine _ ,” Dick snarls, eyes flashing and Roy raises his gun threateningly. There’s a suspending moment, when Jason is sure this will get ugly, can see Roy’s innards painted across the floor of his church in vivid detail if his second shot falters but the moment is gone when black smoke buffets out of Dick’s mouth in an ear-piercing scream, dissipates away and the body falls limp to the ground with a sickening thud. 

There’s silence for a long time, where Roy checks over his gun coolly, unloads the barrel and counts his remaining bullets. He’s wasted two, and Jason knows it vexes Roy terribly. Jason pulls his clothes back on, puts them in some semblance of order and wills his eager cock down into a half-chub. 

“... Check his pulse,” Roy mutters and Jason’s cock flags the rest of the way down. This is his least favorite part, lugging the lifeless meatsuit to the nearest morgue, or the half-dead lucid, panicked host to a hospital while they kick and scream the entire way. He sighs, ambles over, picks up tight jeans on the way because he’s not going to let poor ol’ Dickie Grayson get buried with his pants down. He maneuvers the jeans up limp legs and then places his fingers to the man’s pulsepoint.

“Beating,” Jason says, pleasantly surprised.

“Eyes?” Roy says but Jason’s already on it. He flicks both eyelids up and sees only shivering whites. 

“Rolled back, likely comatose,” Jason sighs, a pity. He wouldn’t mind making the moves on this one, if the demon  _ was _ in fact playing him like a fiddle with those tall tales of his. 

“Drop him at the nearest hospital,  _ Father  _ Todd,” Roy says snarkily, placing emphasis on the part he knows will irritate Jason most.

“Yeah, so Sexy but Smokey can pop right back in?” Jason snorts and Roy shoots him a look.

“Give him the anti-possession tattoo first, you fucking numbskull. How rusty are you exactly?” Roy grunts and Jason meets Roy’s green-eyed glare with a blazing one of his own.

“Yeah? You’re the one to talk, haven’t seen you in years,” Jason says viciously, a half-grin on his face that harbors no amusement.

“I wasn’t the one who nearly died to a succubus. Pathetic, by the way,” Roy snarls and has the audacity to tack on a laugh right after.

“Yeah? You want to talk about why you missed your shot?” Jason grits out and Roy’s body goes stock still. 

Any hint of humor in the banter between them vanishes. Jason knows he’s overstepped.

“No, I don’t. Take care, baby bro,” Roy says tonelessly, the moniker falls flat and Jason’s not sure why Roy even added it. 

“We aren’t fucking related, Roy,” Jason snaps and it gets a snort out of Roy, at least.

“Ouch, that hurts me, right here,” Roy says with a pout, places a gloved hand on his chest right above his heart.

“Fuck off,” Jason snaps and then they’re both smirking at each other, like the old days. There’s a companionable silence, where they measure each other up, catalogue new clothes, new bruises, and new secrets hiding behind both sets of eyes. 

“Come back on the road with me,” Roy says, it’s abrupt and it catches Jason off guard.

“Why, what changed?” Jason mutters and he meets Roy’s gaze with genuine consternation.

“I have a lead,” Roy says quietly and Jason stiffens, he narrows his eyes. 

A lead on Bruce.

“On who?” Jason asks anyway, needlessly, hoping for any answer other than what he knows is coming.

“Bruce, and ol’ Yellow-Eyes himself - goes by Joker these days, can you believe it? As if the name Azazel wasn’t bad enough. I hear from a mutual friend of ours that there’s a big showdown coming up,” Roy says flippantly, in that half-ramble way of his that Jason won’t admit he’s missed.

“No,” Jason says immediately. He knows the mutual friend, they don’t have  _ friends  _ in their line of work.

Roy looks like he’s about to argue, then his eyes fall onto the pulpit behind Jason.

“Fine, suit yourself. You got a week. Rendezvous at Alfred’s Scrap Yard,” Roy says flippantly and turns to leave, and bingo, mutual friend correctly identified. Jason yearns to meet the old man, he does, but Alfred goes hand in hand with Bruce and he would rather eat dirt than go running back to their adoptive father.

Roy’s half turned, when he pauses to meet Jason’s eyes one more time, he has an assessing, hopeful gaze.

“Fat chance, Jerk,” Jason snaps, but it holds no fire. Roy’s face contorts in a grin. 

“See you never, Bitch,” Roy snaps right back, then walks out, whistling all the while. 

If Jason’s lips pull up in a smile after the doors shut, that’s nobody’s business but his own.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I used Hozier's Take Me to Church lyrics for a fic title about a priest screwing a succubus in a church. What of it?


End file.
